Mangled Thoughts

The Clerics in Oz are fond of divining all sorts of mysteries ex nihilo. The Tsunami for example, as clerics declared, it’s God’s message to man, a warning to man. Whatever they wish to believe but, a bit of consistency on their part is in order.

It will rain today in Melbourne, the fore-cast is, it will co-incide with today’s headless chook spectacle in Melbourne. Yes, God is going to piss all over them. The clerics of Melbourne are in the poo , God is not amused, is humour is the line, why do they invoke my name in vain!’ So, he has decided to take a leak during the cluck run.

It might be noticed, the medja already is jumping in saying, the streets will be littered with `a hundred thousand ‘bodies - that’s the sort of expression one asscoiates with such likeable monsters as Mao. A very messy prospect that is. if they must have group flop down, they can beach themselves in a park instead. It is inconsiderate of them, city types going about their business have no wish to walk on carcasses littering footpath and street., regular boot ware is not made for clambering over heaps of heaving steaming, stinking bods.

What a divine punishment. God urinates over a hundred thousand already sweaty bodies packed together like sardines and, the stench will not be nice. The clerics might take note, as they join hands , singing the great `protest songs’:

`We shall not, we shall not be moved,
Like a fat whale stuck on beachy sands
we can’t be moved…’

And:

`What do I want,
When do I wan’ it,
Tra la la humpety tumpety’.

Well, God has heard and decided, `I’ll give ‘em something I’ll find immensely funny.’

The clerics really ought to run away and hide, they have stirred the taipan within the big boy, irked the the old bugger no end, by gum they have. Very nasty posi they are in: well, at least they will be able to swear, when the doom has fallen all over them, what the inside of an immense open-air john is like.

What a sign… I’m saved, hallelujah and all that rot.